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ENGLAND, 



AND 



OTHER POEMS 



BY WILLIAM MARSH. 



NEW YORK 




PHINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 

1839. 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 

WILLIAM MARSH, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern District 



of New York. 



3 ^i> 



/ 



PREFACE 



To collect into a volume the scattered effusions of earlier years, 
and while doing so, t© plead excessive unwillingness, would be an 
assumption of modesty, which the author apprehends the most lenient 
and indulgent reader would be disposed to doubt. 

In introducing, however, to the public, the following fugitive pieces, 
it may be expected that he should say something in their behalf, not to 
justify himself in what some might call a rash undertaking, not to 
soften the voice of criticism, nor to deprecate its severity, but to ask 
for these his humble efforts a candid perusal, and that their merits may 
be their claim to favor or oblivion. 

It may be hardly necessary to stat3 that they were originally written 
for the amusement of the hour and without the remotest intention of 
being handed to the world in their present collected shape ; but through 
the solicitation of many esteemed friends, he has been induced to 
present them to the public, and awaits, not without the flutterings of 
hope for the decision of the reading world. 



CONTENTS. 






page. 


England, '. . . » 


8 


A Dream, .... 


13 


The Lover's Lament, . . 


15 


Life, . . 


17 


Lines on General Washington, 


19 


Lines on receipt of a Bouquet of Flowers, . 


22 


The Parting, by request, 


' 23 


Maid of Venice, . . 


24 


Lines on meeting a Young Lady, 


. 25 


The Doomed Prisoner, . 


27 


The Voyager's Return, 


29 


The Outward Bound, 


31 


Altered from «' Tell him I love him yet," 


33 


To the Ladies of Hempstead, 


35 


Address to the Merchants of New York, 


37 


Give me my Heart, 


39 


I never can Forget, 


41 


Addressed to the Ladies of New York, . , 


43 


Musings upon the Sea, 


44 


Lines on a Coquettish Young Lady, 


46 


Lines in a Lady's Album, 


47 


The Vows of Women, 


48 


Answer to the same, 


49 


Random Thoughts to my Seal, 


50 



CONTENTS. 



To the ^ronaut, . . . • 


51 


We meet no more, 


52 


Lines on a Young Lady leaving for Italy, 


53 


Fragment, . • • • 


54 


Lines on taking a Lady's Purse, 


55 


Lines on hearing a Young Lady Play, 


56 


Fragment, ... 


57 


On Death, . . • • „ 


] 58 


Innocence Betrayed, . - , • 


60 


Fragment, . . • • 


65 


My Island Home, 


66- 


The Parting, 


71 


Lines by Edward Everett, 


73 


Answer to the same, 


76 


The Last Link is not Broken, 


79 


Lines to Horace Green, 


80 


The two Isles, .... 


84 


To Capt. James Pennoyer, 


86 


The Slanderer, .... 


88 


Lines on a Gentleman dying at Sea, 


90 


Lines on Visiting a Churchyard, 


93 


Fragment, .... 


95 


Perfidy, 


96 


Lines on the Wreck of the Steamer Home, 


99 


Lines to my Son, . 


. 101 


Lines on a Military Funeral, 


103 


To Miss Ellen Tree, 


105 


A Medley, 


106 


Farewell to my Muse, 


110 



TO PHILIP HONE, ESQ. 

As a tribute due to the taste he has exhibited in literature and 
the fine arts, and the encouragement he has ever so liberally- 
extended towards their promotion and support, and as a small token 
of the esteem in which he is held by the community, this little 
volume is respectfully inscribed, 

By his obedient servant, 

The Author. 



ENGLAND. 



Land of the great — of noble ancestry ! 
Queen of the isles, and mistress of the sea ! 
Where all the polished arts refulgent reigns, 
Their beauties breathing o'er thy peaceful plains ; 
Where patriot feeling, prince and peasant bind, 
In the glad triumph of the march of mind, — 
And the bright falchion, which oft hath armies laid 
In dust, is changed to plough-share and the spade ; 
And springs the laurel from the blooming field, 
Deformed of old by broken lance and shield, 
Of feudal tyranny, of wars alarms. 
Of despot power, and appeals to arms. 
The frightful hour is pass'd, long pass'd away. 
Stained with the Helots blood, in wild affray — 
When carnage swell'd the charnal-house with those 
Who fighting, nobly fell mid friends and foes : 
Where many a brave heart found an early doom, 
And slumbers proudly in a lowly tomb. 
To win a hero's never dying name, 
Traced bright by glory on the page of fame, 



10 ENGLAND. 

• 

And like the star, that sinks to rise no more, 

Leaves its fair home, while weeping worlds adore. 

— Go to the Abbey, or Saint Paul's vast pile, 

Behold the gorgeous works of art and toil ! 

There, trophied monuments in splendor rise, 

To mark alike in death ambition's prize — 

Here, heroes blazoned, there, the statesmen lie ; 

While some bright genius slumbers idly by. 

But oft, too oft, the paltry dastard's name 

Is graved in praise, where truth would utter shame ! 

— Go to the Chapel — see Brittannia's pride ! 

Her kings, in death reposing, side by side : 

Thus pomp and wealth, time — fleeting time will rust, 

Monarchs and vassals sleep alike in dust! 

Nor organ's peal, nor monumental urn, 

Can e'er to life the mighty dead return. 

And thou, fair Thames, whose ever changing tide 

Receives, from every sea, thy commerce wide, 

Thy fertile shores, adorn'd with scenes so fair. 

Would make a hermit be a dweller there. 

But, see ! where rises yonder gloomy tower, 

Prison and armory, of regal power — 

Within whose walls the innocent were doomed 

To linger, while their youth and beauty bloomed ; 



ENGLAND. 11 

While tyrants high death's ensign black did wave, 
How many found in thee an early grave ? 
On Albion's hills the ruined castles lie, 
That boasted once of love and chivalry — 
Of banners bright by lonely maidens wrought, 
To cheer their knights who brave in battle fought : ^ 
Where oft in feudal times of horrors deep, 
That caused full many a one in grief to weep. 
The maids and matrons took an active part, 
And vailed their weakness to the bold of heart — 
With love of country and with glory fired. 
What warrior's bosom slumbered, uninspired 1 
But those dread scenes and actors long have past, 
And war's red car is to oblivion cast ; 
Now Ceres, with a broad extended hand, 
With art and science, trips it o'er the land ; 
The smiling three e'en leave their native shore. 
To spread o'er all the world their bounteous store. 

Hail ! noble daughter of a Royal Line ! 
A humble bard invokes the sacred nine, 
And boldly sings, though scarcely known to fame, 
A swelling poean to thy glorious name ! 
Then may Parnassus' holy conclave smile. 
While thee I sing, and old Brittannia's isle — 



12 ENGLAND. 

Raised, innocent and youthful as thou art, 

To that high throne, to act so great a part. 

See the bright crown now ghtters on thy brow. 

To whom in homage all the nations bow ! 

A lovely, artless girl, of sweet nineteen. 

Just from her tutor's hands, now England's Queen, 

On whom the admiring world turns its proud eye. 

As seamen watch the cynosure on high. 

Which seen mid many a brighter beaming star. 

Points the true course, as bright it shines afar. 

Victoria ! mediator of the earth ! 

Proud waves the flag where glory gave thee birth, — 

Happy in youth life's voyage thou'st begun, 

May cares ne'er darken thy meridian sun ; 

And when death woos thee to a dreamless night, 

May glory crown thee, as thy morn is bright. 

And fame around thy temples twine a wreath, 

More bright than that, which graced Elizabeth I 



A DRE AM. 

I stood upon a green and lofty hill, 

That lofty hill where oft I've stood before, 

And nature was all beautiful and still. 
Save gentle ripples on the sandy shore. 

This hilly mount that crowns a sea-girt isle, 
High overlook'd the vdde and tranquil bay. 

On which in transport I did gaze awhile 
As on its bosom many a proud bark lay. 

The sun in all its parting glory shone 

Upon each distant isle and village bright ; 

Still slowly sinking in the western zone, 
To leave the world in darkness and in night. 

Just then an evening bird with outstretch'd wing 
Flew swiftly past, and, frighten'd, gave a scream, 

Perch'd on a tree the greenest of the spring— 
And I awoke to find it but a dream. 



14 A DREASf. 



MORAL. 



What's changing life ? alas! a changing dreanTj^ 
Of good and evil, darkness and of light — 

From pleasure's height to misery's supreme, 

From youth's bright mom to death's eternal night. 



THE LOVER'S LAMENT, 

It is in vain — it is in vain, 

That I thus dash the tears aside ; 
With double gush they come again, 

A flood at each returning tide. 
My thoughtful days — my sleepless nightSy 

Do furnish many a token, 
That hearts, once fondly taught to love, 

Can be so easy broken. 

'Tis strange that one so fair, so young, 

The first that serv'd at beauty^s shrine, 
Whose virtues I so oft have sung. 

Should leave me thus alone to pine. 
No hope, no smile, no tear, alas ! 

From pity's fountain starting — 
No sigh to echo back my sigh. 

Not e'en a kiss at parting. 

For me is left that fated spot 

Where Lethe's waters softly flov\r ; 

And I am now by her forgot — 
Earth has no gifts it can bestow. 



16 THE LOVER^S LAMENT. 

Death is the heart's obUvion, 



And his cup is bitter only 
To the fortunate and gay, 

Not the sorrowing and lonely. 

Then let me hail the setting sun 

In his full robe of gold array'd, 
Casting a last glad look upon 

The mountain wreath and forest shade ; 
Leaving awhile his native sky 

To rise in majestic glory — 
But let me sink and leave to none 

The fest'ring links that binds my story > 



LIFE. 

The spring-time of our youth, 
The sports that never tired. 

When hope, and love, and truth, 
Went hand in hand inspired — 

Thus soon Hfe's morning skips away> 

The brightest sunshine of our day» 

The summer of our days, 
The harvest and its fruits — 

Ambition's torch, whose blaze 
Allures while it pollutes r 

Oh ! rather give me solitude 

Than cities where the wicked brood. 

The autumn of our years, 

The sapless yellow leaf — 
The father's throes, the mother's tears,. 

The heart o'ercharged with grief : 
These are the sorrows that we reap. 
To hope by day, by night to weep. 



18 LIFE. 

The winter of our life 

Brings an eternal home — ■ 

The cord, the bowl, the knife, 
The shroud, the bier, the tomb. 

Here end alike the pilgrimage 

Of king and peasant, fool and sage. 



ON THE CENTENNIAL BIRTH DAY OF* 

GENERAL WASHINGTON. 

Short is the triumph of a sweUing name 

That ruins empires in the search for fame, 

That Hfts the sceptre and erects a throne 

O'er realms once happy and where freedom shone. 

Smiles on the woes that swell ambition's train, 

The scourge and tyrant of a vast domain ; 

Oblivion's dirge floats idly o'er his bier 

Whom worth embalms not with the grateful tear. 

Not so the Chief Columbia's annals claim 
Alike to virtue- — and undying fame — 
Immortal Washington ! no crimson'd rays 
Flash from thy name or round thy actions blaze. 
Bright in themselves, they boast no borrow'd day, 
No proud memorials pioneer their way. 
Torn by thy hand from splendor's loftiest throne 
The Median sceptre and the Persian crown, 
No fallen Darius mourns in sullen state 
The sad reversion of his country's fate ! 
The Ides ne'er chill'd thee with prophetic gloom, 
Nor Caesar's laurels flourish round thy tomb. 



20 WASHINGTON. 

Born to avenge thy country in the field, 

Or guard her councils with a patriot's shield, 

To cheer despondence thro' retreat's alarm, 

Or ravish triumph with resistless arm ; 

And when exchanged the falchion for the pen, 

To lose the soldier in the citizen ! 

Pour the mild accents of experience sage 

To guide the fire of youth or kindle age. 

The world admires how various virtues blend, 

Thy country's panoply ! thy country's friend ! 

What, tho' the madness of a bigot's zeal 
Would clothe his virtues as his form in steel — 
Blast his fresh laurels whilst in fairest bloom. 
And bid them fade on Andre's sacred tomb. 
Friendship shall summon the indignant glow. 
And grief lament when virtue feels the blow. 
Tho' vengeance threaten, and compassion bleed. 
Recording justice consecrates the deed. 

He saw the gloom that wrapt Columbia's sky 
Still ling'ring near destruction scarce gone by, 
With dread survey'd the half averted doom, 
Unfinish'd fate still slumb'ring in its womb ! 



WASHINGTON. 21 

Stern duty bade his guiltless sword display, 
To ward the terrors of a future day. 
Prompt at the call, again he takes the field, 
To save his country — spreads his guardian shield. 

Sweet peace again his path with flowrets strew'd, 
And praise and honor all his steps pursued ; 
Approving heaven adopted its decree, 
Land of the brave ! be then forever free. 
Belov'd Columbia ! 'tis thy proudest boast 
That virtue, worth, and valor guard thy coast. 
Then on this day to Freemen justly dear. 
Let every patriot feeling mingle here. 
And hail, with highest joys and minstrel strain. 
The birth day of our Washington again. 



LINES 

Written on receipt of abeautiful boquet of flowers from a young Lady,, 
Nov. 27, 1837. 

Beautiful and fragrant flowers ! 

Nurs'd by fair Mary's tender care, 
Who often watch'd thy sylvan bowers, 

That no rude hand should enter there. 



Now pluck'd from thy favorite vale, 
Doom'd to deck a different scene, 

Thy breath no more perfumes the gale, 
And soon must fade those leaves so green^ 

But faded as thou e'en must be. 

Thou art, bright posy ! welcome here — 

Thrice welcome as I look on thee 
In this chill season of the year. 

And may some sweet joy ever bloom. 
Thou Jovely girl ! still bloom for thee. 

Thro' each bright day, and night's dark gloom, 
Till changing life shall ended be. 



i 



THE PARTING 



BY REQUEST 



Sadness now slowly creeps upon my soul 
And coldness steals upon my beating heart, 

Which tells me the unwelcome hour has come 
When friends who met in joy must sadly part. 

Alphonso ! still I feel thy hand's warm grasp — 
The tears are streaming down my pale cold cheek ; 

Our hearts are link'd in friendship's holy clasp, 
For grief at parting, do not deem me weak. 

Hark ! what a thundering peal comes o'er the sea, 

It is the parting and last signal gun 
That calls Alphonso far away from me ; 

Yet stay ! one word, and thy dear voice is gone. 

He breathed that parting word, a sad farewell ! 

Echo repeats it through each cavern drear ; 
Like sounds of death's eternal solemn knell, 

Thy voice, Alphonso ! dies upon my ear. 



MAID OF VENICE, 

Maid of Venice ! fare thee well I 

Swiftly o^er the lapsing tide 
I leave the land where kindred dwell, 

And her I thought to be my bride. 
For now the winds are fresh and free 
That wafts me o'er the bomidless sea. 
For now the winds, &c. 

False maid ! again farewell to thee — - 
The shore is fading fast from view, 

I soon in other climes shall be — 

Still, Venice, dear ! my heart's with you, 

E'entho' the winds are fresh and free 

That wafts me o'er the boundless sea. 
E'en tho' the winds, &c. 



LINES, 

Occasioned by meeting a young Lady at a party in New- York, 1837, 
on the eve of her departure for the West, and unexpectedly meeting 
her again at a Ball, in Boston, 1838. 

J^ight months have flown since first we met, 
Amid that gay and laughing crowd — 

That meeting I shall ne'er forget, 

'Till death shall wind me in its shroud. 

The loveliest of the lovely there 

Was thy sweet smile and eyes of jet, 

With raven locks, and neck so fair, 
Which fancy plays around it yet. 

How swiftly flew those hours of bliss 

Across our paths diverging far, 
Perchance no more to meet like this, 

As sudden shines, then fades a star. 

But lovely shines that star again, 

Again the charms of life renew 
Which binds the heart in love's soft chain, 

Or breaks it in its last adieu. 



26 LINES, 



On mem'ry's fount, long will you shine, 
Where'er you rove or e'er shall be, 

Tho' thy heart ne'er may beat to mine. 
Yet shall mine proudly beat for thee. 



THE DOOMED PRISONER. 

In yonder dark and gloomy pile 

Immured, a noble victim lies, 
Who soon must bid the world farewell^ 

For ere to-morrow noon he dies,. 

His crime was liberty of mind — 

A lofty soul that dared be free ; 
A heart by fear that ne'er was thrill'd, 

Nor e'er was bought, base gold, by thee. 

He's now of life's each hope bereft, 

Yet one sad joy for him remains. 
His mind to soothe in that last scene, 

Which breaks, for aye, these earthly chains. 

'Tis his. devoted Helen dear 

That clings thus closely to his heart, 

As on his breast in grief she sighs — 
* Oh ! teach me how from thee to part.' 



28 THE DOOMED PRISONER. 

Yes, Herbert ! it too soon will be 
That I shall here no more recline — 

No more shall welcome your return, 

With thy warm lips fond press'd to mine. 

I feel the spell araund me cast, 

That whilst on earth, how e'er so long, 

No other voice that I shall hear 
Can ever glad me with a song. 

Forever drear will be that home — 
That home so happy once to me, 

Where oft I used to touch the chords, 
And joyful breath'd the strains for thee. 

Now with my child — his image thine — 
, From all that's dear, far hence we'll roam, 
As he each day thy name shall bless 
To cheer the lonely exile's home. 

Lov'd Helen ! live for that dear child, 
Live, dearest one ! for him and me — 

And after I, the world forget. 
The solace of thy heart he'll be. 



THE DOOMED PRISONER. 29 

The hour has come that we must part, j 
And that, too, on this earth forever ; 

Oh ! do not weep — it racks me more 
Than many death's from thee to sever. 

Now, senseless, in his arms she hes — 

Beside her smiles the infant boy ; 
Smile may you ever, there to be 

Thy mother's hope — her only joy. 

He bids them now a last farewell — 
His manly cheeks with tears are hot ; 

And e'er to life she wakes again. 
He has in death the world forgot^ 



THE VOYAGER'S RETURN. 

How pure the pleasure, after lapse of years, 
To tread again my own, my native land — ■ 

Clasp to my bosom those I left in tears, 
As my bark bore me from the rocky strand. 

Propitious gales have wafted me o'er seas 
To many a distant clime beyond the main, — - 

And now my bark, borne swiftly by the breeze, 
Returns me to my native shore again. 

I tread once more beneath my own blue sky, 
And breathe the air of freedom's happy shore, 

Where the unconquered banner waves on high, 
A nation's pride— and shall, till time's no more. 

And now farewell ! a long, a last farewell 

To scenes, though foreign, yet to memory dear ; 

For thou, my country ! hath a magic spell. 
To bind the heart, and start the sacred tear. 



THE OUTWARD BOUND. 

The sky is clear, and free the breezes swell— ^ 
Come, lads ! come, hoist your every sail — ■ 

Soon will you bid your native land farewell, 
And press the waves careering to the gale. 

A friendly group the festive board surround, 

But many a sorrowing heart is there. 
As yon bark waits for those, the outward bound, 

For whom is breathed the soul's deep prayer. 

Here, friends the nectar'd wine shall kindly drink— 
And drinking, pass the sparkling glass around, 

With many a pledge that oft they'd think 

Of those, our parting friends, the outward bound. 

The last kind word of loved ones is spoken, 
And full many a cheek with tears are wet — ■ 

Those silent monitors, the dearest token, 
That fond memory never will forget. 



32 THE OUTWARD BOUND. 

They're gone !— the vessel's proudly cast to sea ; 

The cannon's farewell peals no more resound ; 
Then may'st thou speed on, from danger free, 

Till God again restore the outward bound. 



ALTERED FROM 

"TELL HIM I LOVE HIM YET 

Dear girl ! I love thee yet, 

As in that joyful time 
Which I can ne'er forget, 

While memory is mine. 

When fades the cheering light 
Upon the world and thee, 

I dream of thee by night, 
And you may dream of me. 

And should I go where fame 
Looks proudly on the brave. 

Wilt share with me the name 
I win o'er land and wave ? 

Bright, bright upon thy brow, 
The wreath of love shall be, 

Tho' that rosy chaplet now 
I do not share with thee. 



34 



And will you still remain 

The same, 'mid pleasure's throng, 
Nor wear another's chain. 

Nor praise another's song? 

Before the bravest there 

I 'd have you bend the knee, 

But murmur not the prayer 
You used to breathe to me. 

Will you love day by day, 
And bless the name of him, 

Whose love, when far away 
From you, will never dim ? 

And if first I should die. 

Go where I've oft met thee — 

And let one friendly sigh 
Escape thy breast for me. 



I 



THE FOLLOWING LINES WERE ADDRESSED TO 

THE LADIES OF HEMPSTEAD, 

While the author was on a visit there in the summer of li 

The village girls ! the village girls ! 
With sparkling eyes and flowing curls, 
And nimble feet at early dawn, 
Light trip it o'er the dewy lawn ; 
Like some far bounding loved gazelle, 
They seem the sprite of mountain dell, 
Roaming oft where the green fern grows 
By some clear brook that gently flows, 
Or fairies on the leafy spray 
Oft dancing in some sunny ray. 
Thus joyful live, ye happy fair ! 
Free from the world's delusive care. 
That haunts the mind and fills the heart 
Of those who live in busy mart ; 
In sweet contentment here ye dwell. 
Nor heed the city's flaunting belle : 



35 LADIES OF HEMPSTEAD. 

Here nature all thy wants supply, 
The home of friends, and where they lie. 
Then may'st thou ever smoothly glide 
Down the dark stream, life's changing tide. 
And safe arrive upon that shore. 
Where friends will meet to part no more ; 
And God upon his throne of worlds 
Forever bless the village girls ! 



ADDRESSED 

To the Merchants of New- York, just after the sad revulsion of Com- 
merce, in 1837. 

When first fair commerce spread her snowy sail 
To woo the fav'ring breeze, or brave the gale, 
To glowing climes and skies that always smile, 
Her infant empire was confined awhile, 
'Till science bid her standard be mifurl'd. 
And spread her radiance o'er a won d'ring world. 
'Tis commerce binds in friendship's golden chain. 
Far lands divided by the boundless main, — 
'Tis she, whose magic rears the haughty pile 
In classic Greece or Briton's happy isle ; 
Or from the spicy shores of distant Ind, 
The well known signal flutters in the wind ; 
With all her canvass spread in proud array. 
The gallant vessel cleaves her liquid way. 
And now, New-York, the first in commerce here 
Spreads her wide influence to every sphere : 
Her merchants, enterprising, bold, and free. 
Launch fearless forth upon the treacherous sea. 



38 ADDRESS. 

In search of wealth each distant land explore, 
And waft its tribute to Columbia's shore. 
Till on broad Hudson's ever changing tide, 
Ships from the farthest climes securely ride. 
Whose streamers flutter in the gentle breeze, 
The pride of savage and of Christian seas. 
And may distress as swiftly pass away 
As does that breeze from thy broad tranquil bay ; 
May fratricidal strife or wars alarms 
Ne'er startle gentle peace with horrid arms , 
May war's dread thunders here be heard no more 
Rousing the warrior with their sullen roar. 
But, oh ! may peace, uniting hand with hand, 
Shed her mild blessings o'er this happy land ; 
May wealth and happiness forever shine 
Upon the land where freedom fix'd her shrine. 



GIVE ME MY HEART. 

Oh [ give me back my heart again, 
Give it — thou canst not keep it now — 

Forever broken is the chain 

That's sever'd by a broken vow. 

I v^ill not cliide thee, false as fair ! 

No, never will I cause thee pain, 
Or doat upon thy silken hair. 

Or gaze on thy bright eyes again. 

Give me my heart ! is still my cry, 

That heart which whole I gave to thee ; 

^Tis broken, and thou'lt not deny 
The suit that murmurs, set me free ! 

That heart which I thought fondly mine, 

Is now unto another given ; 
Then be it so, I'll ne'er repine. 

Since the pledge is seal'd in heaven. 



GIVE ME MY HEART. 40 

False one ! give back my heart again, 
My name from mem'ry's record blot ; 

For whom thou wilt, weave friendship's chain, 
Wliilst I shall be by thee forgot. 



I NEVER CAN FORGET. 

I never, never can forget 

Her, vv^hom once I lov'd so well — 
Ah ! no, I love her dearly yet 

As when at first I felt her spell, 
Beneath the grove in early bloom, 

Where first and last we fondly met — 
I promis'd then whate'er my doom, 

I never, never would forget. 

She loved me when we parted last, 

I know full well she loves me yet, 
Tho' slander her dear name may blast, 

That name I never can forget. 
For when she sighed a last adieu. 

Her cheeks with tears for me were wet, 
Her lips for me of death's pale hue. 

Then how can I her name forget ! 



ADDRESSED TO THE 

LADIES OF NEW YORK, 

NEW YEAR'S DAY— 1S39. 

Know ye this day, how each bosom will swell 
With joys to some, and with some a farewell — 
Of joys fleetly passed, brought sadly to mind, 
By lov'd ones departed, false ones unkind. 
Then if the heart be o'ershadowed with gloom, 
Let hope on it smile, and pleasure will bloom. 
And feuds and estrangements forgotten will be 
As they breathe New Year's morn welcome to thee. 
And may matron and maid in gladness shine 
And sparkle their eyes as sparkles the wine ; 
Whilst in full bumpers we'll quaff to the fair, 
The soothers of wo and the partners of care. 
And when some fair hand the wine cup shall raise, 
To whom will she drink and whom will she praise ? 
For those that betray, or those that are true. 
Who wins lovely woman and honors her too : 
Perchance amidst those, the gay and the free. 
Some fair one may drink a kind wish to me. 



AN ADDRESS. 43 



And as many an eye that glows afar, 
Will sweetly beam on the Evening Star, 
Then to friends and foes, to absent and near. 
To each, and to all — a happy new year. 



MUSINGS UPON THE SEA. 

How well I love the deep and boundless sea, 
With the never ceasing billows all around ; 

The vault of heaven high arching o'er my head, 
The far off horizon my only bound. 

Here stand I musing o'er the liquid tomb, 
Where lies below, upon a rocky bier, 

Many a brave and noble heart, whose doom 
Was sealed in death afar from kindred dear. 

Many a heart with glowing spirits high, 
Has left its valleys green and native shore ; 

But friendship long shall breathe the secret sigh, 
For those dear ones who will return no more. 

Long shall the widow watch each passing sail, 
Her hair fluttering in the freshning breeze, 

For grief is borne along on every gale. 

And moans, he's lost upon the stormy seas. 



MUSINGS UPON THE SEA. 45 

Oft a dear child will lisp, a ship in sight, 

And oft the mother fond, will strain her eyes — 

But it is not thy sire's — he sleeps in night. 

To wake no more on earth, to morn's bright skies- 

Oh ocean ! could thy depths be all explored, 
What would thy secret beds unfold to view — 

The wrecks of human forms, once lov'd, ador'd, 
And wealth of nations, all engalph'd by you. 

Oh mighty, vast, and still insatiate sea, 

Whose dark abodes no mortal foot has trod, 

Owning no pow'r but that which flows from thee ! 
Thou ever living and Omnicient God ! 



LINES, 

Occasioned by seeing a coquettish Young Lady angry with a Gentle- 
man who was much attached to her. 

In anger those words were spoken— 
They came from thy hps, not thy heart ; 

If so, with him the spell is broken^ 
He parts from thee as strangers part. 

He lov'd to dwell on that fair brow, 
Around which hangs thy waving hair — 

And on thy bright blue eyes e'en now, 
As once he loved to linger there. 

He loved to gaze upon thy form, 

Of queen like dignity and grace ; 
How much more he felt 'midst the storm, 

To look upon that lovely face ; 

The index of a soul enshrined. 

And every feature made to please — 

But inconstant ever is thy mind. 

And changed with every changing breeze. 



LliNES WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM. 

May the one who claims thy trusting heart, 

Nourish it hke a tender flower, 
And from its casket never part, 

In brightest or in darkest hour. 

Can any be so base — unkind. 

To pluck the rose from its green stem, 

To let it fade with love entwin'd. 
Or spurn it for some other gem. 

Mary ! may happiness long be thine, 

And grief your bosom never know, 
But years — bright years of love divine, 

'Till heaven its bliss on thee bestow. 



THE vows OF WOMEN. 

* Write on the sand wlien the tide is low, 
Sceiv the spot ^vliere the waters flow, 
"Whisper a name when the storm is heard. 
Pause that echo may catch the word ; 

If what you write on the sand should lastj 
If echo is heard 'mid the tempest's blast. 
Then believe, and not till then. 
There is truth in the vows of women ! 

* Throw a rose on the streaui at morn^ 
Watch at eve for the flowers return ; 
Drop in the ocean a golden grain, 
Hope 'twill shine on the shore again ; 
If the rose you again behold, 

If you gaze on your grain of gold, 
Then believe, and not till !hen^ 
There is truth in the vows of women P 



The foregoing lines were written in a young Lady's Album, by a Gen- 
tleman whose attentions were not reciprocated by her, and the fol- 
lowing Answer written by recjuest. 

Write on the sand's ever wave vi^ashed shore, 
The name of her thou would'st adore ; 
Go breathe that name amidst the storm, 
Echo rephes, 'tis her loved form ; 
And if what you write shall wash away, 
E'en tho' the strand itself decay, 
So time will prove to thee, base man. 
There's truth in the vows of women. 

Tho' the downward stream flows not again. 
And the rose we seek for in vain ; 
Tho' the waves our gold will ne'er restore. 
To shine on hope's glad eye once more — 
So when lowly sinks man's once proud name, 
Dear woman remains still the same. 
And fondly clings to his worthless shrine, 
Like ivy round the ruined pine. 



RANDOM THOUGHTS. 
To my Seal, having the armorial bearings of my Father. 

As I gaze on tliat seal, thou pledge of heraldry, 
What visions hover on the wings of fancy : 
Visions of departed, long departed years. 
Of feuds, of lordly castles, and saintly tears : 
Ancestors engaged in sacerdotal w^ars. 
Of which thou hast a Saracen for thy crest — 
A motto that inspires me each change to bear, 
Whatever of life's blessings I'm possess'd. 
Even now I sadly feel that cliange of time, 
The rude invader of many a joy to me, 
But still proudly love my father's name and thee, 
For what they have been, and what thou art to be. 



TO THE ^RONAUT. 

Bold voyager that roams the fields of air, 

Sailing smoothly on the ethereal tide, 
Till lost from earth in Sol's refulgent glare, 

Or world's of gorgeous clouds beneath thee glide. 

Say, lone one on eternity's vast space, 

What are thy thoughts, and what thy heart's com- 
motion. 
As thou art wafted o'er this world on high, 

With thy frail bark, upon that airy ocean. 



WE MEET NO MORE 

Oh, yes, the spell is broken, 

And joy's sweet hour is o'er. 
The last sad word is spoken. 

We meet — we nneet no more. 
No longer may I cherish 

Of love, the illusive dream. 
For this, alas, must perish 

With hope's expiring beam. 
Oh, yes — the spell is broken. 

And joy's sweet hour is o'er. 
The last sad word is spoken. 

We meet — we meet no more. 



ON A YOUNG LADY LEAVING FOR ITALY 

May gentle breezes waft thee o'er 

In safety to yon sunny shore, 

And every pleasure wait for thee 

That glads the heart o'er life's dark sea. 

And oft at Evening when we pray, 

We'll pray for her that parts to-day. 

As perchance we part forever. 

Still friendship's chord ne'er will sever ! 

And fond remembrance of the past 

On mem'ry's tablet long will last. 

And when from friends and me you stray. 

Think thou of those far, far away. 

Once more, farewell ! a last adieu 

We fondly — sadly, sigh to you. 



FRAGMENT. 

How pure — how sacred the warm heartfelt tear 
That kindly flows, when friend from friend departs ; 

Parting, perchance for aye, from all that's dear, 
Or e'er was fondly cherish'd in their hearts. 

The glist'ning eye, the soul's affection shows, 
Far deeper than clasp'd hand or words can tell 

Of hopes and wishes light ; the tear that flows — r 
The silent tear that speaks the keen farewell. 



ON TAKING A LADY'S PURSE, 

Containing a Utile money^ which was returned with the following lines 
He who Stole this did not steal trash : 



If so, still money is its name — 
For which, base men contending crash 

Each loftier thought and nobler aim, 
But kind one, generous as thou art. 

May it bring plenty to thy door. 
And peace and pleasure fill thy heart. 

And in gaining that, ask no more. 



LINES 
On hearing a Young Lady playing on the Harp with a great deal of skill. 

Perchance in after years, some stranger, rude. 

May careless strike the chords, or wake the song, 
That oft wag. touch'd with skilful taste by thee, 

And o'er the soul their dulcet strains prolong — 
Sad then the feelings to remembrance dear 

When death and silence chain thy warbling tongue, 
And still'd that hand, and wasted that fair form. 

O'er which in rapture we have lingering hung. 



57 



FRAGMENT. 

How can we e'er those scenes forget, 

Those happy scenes of youth's gay dawn* — 

Where oft in infancy we've met, 
And gambolled in the wood or lawn. 

Or strolhng by the waveless brook, 
Where sporting on its sunny banks, 

'Till each and every tangled nook 
Has caught us in some boyish pranks ? 

And oft o'er mountain and o'er dale, 
We've roam'd wherever pleasure led. 

Culling bright flow'rs from each sweet vale 
'Till all, save memory, has fled. 



58 



ON DEATH. 

What avails the miser's hoarded store, 

Can boasted wealth death's emissary bribe- 

Or save him from that untravell'd shore, 
Where all alike must sleep, of every tribe ? 

Can far-sounding fame the hero save, 
Or turn aside the conqueror. Death ? 

No ! — he too must yield, and to the grave 
Render his all, save the laurel v^^reath. 

And proud ambition aJike must yield 
To death, the victor, mightier than he ; 

'Gainst whose fatal shaft their is no shield,—- 
And kings enthroned bend the pliant knee. 

And what is beauty, but a flower, 

Which only blows and blooms to fade ; 

A shadow, pleasing for an hour. 
To droop and wither in the shade. 



ON DEATH. 59 

Thus it is with all — all bloom to die, 
Envy, hatred — each have their doom ; 

For they in death some time must lie. 
And find equality in the tomb. 

For there all must yield to death's dread power, 
Commingled in one great common bed — 

Alike awaiting the judgment hour. 
The awful resurrection of the dead. 



60 



INNOCENCE BETRAYED. 

Oh, that a man, if he can so be called, 

That would thus leave a young and artless maid,. 
Lone on the world, to misery and want, 

Bereft of friends, from happy home betrayed. 

Mourned, forever mourned, be that fatal hour, 
When from my parental roof I strayed — 

When honor yielding to the traitor's power. 
Left me by fairest promises betrayed. 

Stung at the thought, stern vengeance I designed ; 

From place to place distractedly I ran. 
To find, if so I could, some peace of mind, 

Still scorned by all, the silly dupe of man. 

Alonzo ! cursed Alonzo ! — when I sought 
The smiling villain, soon my fury found ; 

The glit'ring dagger in my hand I caught, 
I struck, and gloried in the ghastly wound ^ 



INNOCENCE BETRAYED. 61 

The false one felt my vengeance in the blow — 
He reel'd, and fainting, as I madly spoke — 

While fast his streaming blood began to flow, 
And my soul triumphed in the dreadful stroke. 

He fell ! the woman all at once returned ; 

O'er his pale face I heaved the bursting sigh, 
I felt his anguish, and my rashness mourned. 

And watched the changes of his changing eye. 

To stop the crimson tide my robe I tore ; 

'Twas love, 'twas pity — call it what you will ; 

I kissed the wound, with tears I washed the gore- 
Where the heart feels, we all are woman still. 

Low I bent my trembhng knee to Heaven, 
His life to save, and I to fate resigned ; 

My prayer was heard — that life was given, 
And awful murder racked no more my mind. 

But what peace or happiness can I find. 

For e'en those hours with him I'll see no more. 

Who his prey forsook, and left me to mankind, 
Without a friend, without a hope in store. 



62 INNOCENCE BETRAYED, 

Olivia once was lovely, gay, and young. 

Was once a nymph by each and all admired ; 

Whose fame was spread abroad by every tongue, 
And many a one my heart and hand desired. 

Alonzo ! thus by you from virtue led, 

I sought protection from each friend I knew ; 

Each friend at my approach shrank back with dread, 
And bid me flee forever from their view. 

Do not thus forsake an unhappy maid, 

Who once, alas ! had seen a happier day — 

Who humbly now implores some friendly aid, 
But all with scorn my humble suit repay. 

And e'en my kindred, and oh ! my earliest friend, 
Refused my saddest tale of grief to hear ; 

And yet my heart, unwilling to offend — 
I could not speak, but dropt a burning tear. 

And as I turned, with struggling power, 

To leave the scenes around the cottage door — 

It was, indeed, a sad, a painful hour — 
But 'tis past, and I shall return no more. 



INNOCENCE BETRAYED. 63 

The bells that now from yon distant tower, 

Knells the hours of fading time, which doth tell 

That it is beyond all human power- 
That soon they'll peal my funeral knell. 

And when you rove o'er the hallowed ground, 
Encircled with willow, and with mournful yew, 

Should the cold sod that clasps Olivia round. 
Obtrusive meet thy thoughtless, careless view ; 

Say, as thou gazest on my silent dust. 

Wilt not thou with conscious feelings glow ; 

And to thy once loved Olivia, just. 
Allow one tear of pity kindly flow? 

Ah, no ! — v^rhen in the earth's cold bosom laid, 
Let me unwept by all forgotten lie ; 

Nor tho' 'twould recall my departed shade, 
Do not heave for me one solitary sigh. 

Farewell, Alonzo ! once I held thee dear, 
Tho' thou hast left me friendless and alone ; 

Still thy name will recall the heart-felt tear, 
That hastens me to my eternal home. 



.•s^ 

••"•«^*/ 



64 INNOCENCE BETRAYED. 

Why leave the wretch thy perfidy has made, 

To journey cheerless thro' the world's wide waste? 

Ah ! why so soon did all thy kindness fade, 
And leave me thus affliction's cup to taste ? 

Ungenerous deed ! to shun the faithful maid, 
Who, for thy arms, abandoned every friend : 

Oh, cruel thought ! that virtue thus betrayed. 
Should feel a pang that death alone can end. 

You have ruined me, and refused to hear 

My lament — e'en from despair you might save 

The broken heart, and wipe away the tear 

Which now will never cease but with the grave ! 



65 



FRAGMENT. 

What a holy and solemn sight 
It is, to look upon the dead — 

On the beautiful and bright, 

And think such charms should fade. 

I mourn o'er the wither'd flower, 
I commune with the fallen leaf. 

That lived in the vernal shower. 

Which informs me all things are brief. 

Mortal ! behold in these a being. 
Who, in sustaining nature, all 

Is omnipotent — all seeing. 

And marks a giant's or a sparrow's fall. 

Behold the senseless form of clay- 
That has breath'd the last sad adieu, 

Now fast mouldering in decay ; 

Such, soon, will be the fate of you. 



06 



The following lines, when first written, were not intended for the pub- 
lic eye — but a friend of the author obtained a copy of them, and 
they shortly after appeared in several of the papers. The island in 
reference here, lies in Boston harbor, and still belongs to the family. 
It was there that the author passed his happiest years, and imbibed 
probably his taste for poetry and the beauties of nature, as it is a 
very charming spot. The late Gardiner Greene, who was one of 
many gentlemen who partook of the happiness of its possessor, 
called it Fairy Isle — others, that of Calypso — and more recently, 
St. Helena, since the author's father is buried there. 



MY ISLAND HOME. 

My island home — my island home ! 
Around whose shores I used to roam, 
With joyous heart and spirit free — 
Free as the wide and unbounded sea. 
Ah ! bright isle, from above, around, 
Where turn'd the eye, some beauty found 
From here, we see the wdde spread bay 
Whose bosom many isles display — 
And modern Athens* here doth he. 
The Athens of the western sky — 



MY ISLAND HOME. 67 

From here we see the ocean wave, 

The seaman's home — the seaman's grave ; 

And craft of every size and form, 

Still'd by the calm, or toss'd in storm, 

Or nature panting with the heat. 

And beasts and birds seek their retreat. 

How pleasant then beneath thy trees 

To breathe the sweet and balmy breeze. 

Or by the flow'ry garden walk 

With varying nature lov'd to talk. 

Or with my bark and wide spread sail, 

Skimm'd the light wave, or brav'd the gale. 

For all are beautiful to me. 

The earth, the air, the sky, the sea ; 

For I behold in them a God 

That gives me life beyond the clod. 

And often in a moonlight night. 

When shone the water silver bright, 

I've list'ned to soft music's strain. 

Which can for me ne'er wake again, 

And oft have dropt the silent tear 

For that sweet home to mem'ry dear. 

It was the lov'd place of my youth 

Where first I learned nature's truth — 



68 MY ISLAND HOME. 

It was often there, by the side 
Of some clear friend, the hours would ghde 
In sweetest converse — ' twas our last — 
Alas ! those blissful hours are past : 
Nor can they e'er return to me, 
But filled with painful memory. 
It was my father's peaceful home, 
Who long the world forgot to roam ; 
After marking each change of life. 
The haunts of men and all their strife ; 
Known on each shore, in every clime, 
Where art hath rear'd the work of time, 
The lov'd alike of each far land 
Caress'd on many a foreign strand. 
On this our sea girt isle he lies, 
Where monument may never rise, 
Except in hearts of children dear, 
For thou art graven deeply there. 
Thy grave is far from vulgar tread. 
The tall grass waving o'er thy head. 
Laid near thy home, where ocean surge 
And mournful winds sigh deep thy dirge. 
Mother ! thou art remember'd yet, 
And cold my heart e'er I forget 



MY ISLAND HOME. 69 

Thy tenderness, thy anxious fears, 
Thy joyful hopes, thy mother's cares. 
Sisters my friendship claim a share — 
Brothers and friends, ye all are dear ! 
Companions of my youth, adieu, 
Gone are the hours I've pass'd with you. 
The dearest, sleep within the tomb, 
And mem'ry lingers o'er the gloom. 
O'er earth and sea some love to roam 
In search of wealth, forget their home : 
But dead to feeling is the heart 
That from the breast lets home depart ; 
Let other scenes charm as they will, 
The thoughts of home is with me still. 
I knew it as my parents' hearth, 
And knew no other place of birth ; 
Then why should I not think of thee. 
My home — my isle, thus dear to me. 
Tho' young, much have I seen of life, 
And sick with men's disgusting strife, 
As the inspired Falconer says. 
In his sublime and heartfelt lays, 
" When interest wakes the world to arms 
It frights the vale with dire alarms." 



70 MY ISLAND HOME. 

Perverted thus are ways of men, 
Like prowling beast of savage glen : 
Then give me back rny island shore 
With all its charms and joys once more, 
Alas ! those scenes can ne'er return, 
Save from mem'rys sacred urn. 
Should kindred, at some future time, 
Glance an eye o'er this humble rhyme, 
And awaken to remembrance dear 
One kindly thought — one friendly tear„ 
It will repay the sad farewell, 
When we together cease to dwell 



7i 



THE PARTING. 

By the glossy brook, where oft we met, 
We part, dearest maid, to meet no more ; 

And oft mem'ry'U paint with fond regret. 
Thy form as I lonely pace the shore. 

The songsters no more will charm my ear. 
No charm has the flow'ry mead for me ; 

Those scenes will now be sad and drear. 
For there I shall roam no more with thee. 

The bright meandering stream no more 
Will enchant me as it did with you, 

For it flows to some favored shore^ 
As thou art, lost forever to my view. 

And the shady grove where oft IVe strayed, 
Listening with rapture to thy song ; 

I'll ne'er forget thee, charming maid, 
When mingling with the crowd along. 



72 THE PARTING. 

No ! those happy scenes will haunt my mind 
Where'er I rove, or what my fate shall be. 

To fortune, love, to thee resign'd, 
Always, dear girl, the same to thee. 

No ! no change of scene, or change of clime. 
With all their pleasures, remembered yet, 

Can e'er obliterate that happy time, 
Pass'd 'midst those scenes where last we m-et. 



73 



LINES, 

Said to have been written by Edward Everett on the eve of a 
Departure for Europe. 

Yes ! dear one, to the envied train 

Of those around, thy moment pay ; 
But wilt thou never kindly deign 

To think on him that's far av^ray? 
Thy form, thine eye, thy angel smile, 

For weary years I may not see ; 
But wilt thou not sometimes the while, 

My sister dear, remember me ? 

But not in fashion's brilliant hail. 

Surrounded by the gay and fair, 
And thou the fairest of them all ; 

Oh ! think not, think not of me there. 
But when the thoughtless crowd is gone. 

And hushed the voice of senseless glee, 
And all is silent, still, and lone. 

And thou art sad, remember me. 



74 LINES^. 

Remember me, but loveliest, ne'er, 

When in his orbit fair and high, 
The morning's glowing charioteer 

Rides proudly up the blushing sky ; 
But when the waving moonbeam sleeps 

At midnight on the lonely tree, 
And nature's pensive spirit weeps 

In all her dews, remember me. 

Remember me, I pray, but not 

In Flora's gay and blooming hour. 
When every brake has found its note. 

And sunshine smiles in every flower ; 
But when the falling leaf is sere, 

And withers sadly from the tree. 
And o'er the ruins of the year 

Cold autumn sighs — remember me. 

Remember me, but choose not, dear, 
The hour when on the gentle lake, 

The sportive wavelets, blue and clear, 
Soft rippling to the margin break ; 

But when the deafening billows foam. 
In madness on the pathless sea, 



LINES. 75 

Then let thy pilgrim fancy roam 
Across them, and remember me. 

Remember me, but not to join, 

If haply some thy friend should praise — 
'Tis far too dear that voice of thine. 

To echo what the stranger says ; 
They know us not — but shouldst thou meet 

Some faithful friend of thee and me, 
Softly, sometimes, to him repeat 

My name — and then remember me. 

Remember me, not, I entreat, 

In scenes of festal reel-day joy ; 
For then it were not kind and meet 

My thought thy pleasure should alloy : 
But on the sacred, solemn day. 

And, dearest, on the bended knee, 
When thou for those thou lov'st dost pray, 

Sweet spirit, then remember me. 



76 



THE FOLLOWING LINES 



Are intended as an answer to t he foregoing article. 

Yes ! brother, were I of the train 

"Where all around me homage pay, 
Thou in my thoughts wilt ever reign, 

I'll think of thee, tho' far away. 
Believe not that I can forget 

Thy noble form and nobler heart. 
For memory twines around thee yet, 

Tho' in some distant clime thou art. 

Yes ! brother, yes ! in fashion's hall 

With friends that still would dearer be, 
If thou, the dearest of them all 

Was there to smile on them and me. 
Tho' in the gay and mirthful train 

With beckn'ing pleasure floating near. 
And joining in the vocal strain, 

Still, still my wish is, you were here. 



LINES. 77 

Remember — yes! dearest, ever, 

When the glorious orb of light 
Rises o'er the blooming heather. 

Or setting, sinks in shades of night ; 
Or when the pale moon slowly creeps 

From out the ever changing sea. 
And wearied nature dreamless sleeps — 

Still memory fondly clings to thee. 

Remember — yes ! each passing day, 

In every fleeting, changing hour, 
From thee my thoughts will never stray, 

Whether in poverty or power ; 
And when the leaf is dead and sere 

That slowly falls from every tree, 
An emblem of each fading year. 

Memory then will dwell with thee. 

In every passing change of scene 

Whatever fortune be my lot. 
For thee, the sweetest flow'r I'll glean, 

The modest flower, " Forget me not.'* 
And oft when musing on the shore. 

Watching each ripple o'er the sea. 
Or list'ning to its billows roar. 

Will trace from each a thought of thee. 



78 LINES. 

Yes ! I'll remember thee, and join 

In the fond theme that speaks thy praise, 
For woven with thy name is mine, 

And thou art all the stranger says ; 
They know for you my cheek is wet, 

And though they name you not to me 
It matters not, I ne'er forget, 

For I am true in thought to thee. 

I'll think of you, though you entreat 

To banish thought in festal joy, 
And when our early friends I meet, 

Thy absence only can alloy. 
And morn and eve of every day 

Is sacred as I bend the knee 
To our God, and shall ever pray — 

Yes ! dear brother, I'll pray for thee. 

I'll think of thee as I have done, 

And on thy proud name ever dwell. 
And when in death my breath is flown, 

A sigh shall mark my last farewell. 
'Tis o'er, I can no more reveal. 

The thought's express'd, the word is spoker 
My pen hath traced the pangs I feel. 

While tears bedew a brother's token. 



t0 



ALTERED PROM 



THE LAST LINK IS BROKEl^. 

BY REQUESr. 

The last link is not broke that bound thee to me^ 
For the vow thou so oft breath'd, still binds^meto thee; 
Tho' those bright beaming eyes on others may shine, 
I yet love their sweet looks, as now fading are mine. 
If I lov'd thee too well, thou shalt blame me no more, 
ri] shun thy cold heart, which I once did adore. 
But to love thee, fond memory ne'er can forget, 
Till hope from my bosom with life's sun is set. 
But to love thee, &;c. 

The heart thou hast blighted, yet fondly loves thee,. 
And the words I once spoke, I'll again whisper free. 
Tho' others may praise thee, they feel not my pain. 
Nor care what I have been and would be again. 
Then break not the heart that beats only for thine. 
Nor bid me in sorrow any longer repine, 
For to love thee, fond mem'ry ne'er can forget„ 
Till hope from my bosom with life's sun is set. 
For to love thee, &;c. 



80 



LINES, 

Addressed to my Friend, Horace Green, m. d. of New York. 

When we tread o'er the sacred ground, 
Where slumber those to friendship dear, 

Beneath the tomb, or upheaved mound, 
Mem'ry drops her warmest tear : 

And at morn and eve I oft repair. 
To kneel beside one lonely tomb ; 

To join with nature's requiem there. 

O'er him who sleeps in night's long gloom \ 

'Tis him whose eye watched day by day, 
And iill'd my mind with useful store ; 

Now closed, where death's dark spectres play. 
And light from them will shine no more ! 

For him the widow long shall mourn, 
And children oft shall weep in vain. 

As from that silent spot they turn, 
And slowly then retread the plain. 



His worth the poor and I have known ; 

What he possess'd he freely gave — 
Tho' now that gen'rous spirit's flown, 

To happier chmes beyond the grave. 

Next I turn to a tomb more dear-, 
With mingled feelings sadly fraught, 

And starts at once the friendly tear, 
The tear unbidden and unsought. 

What is gold to that heavenly giftj 

Friendship, which gladly cheers the heart. 

As on some rocky strand we drift, 
Whose strong anchor ne'er will part, 

it is a solace to the mind. 

Beyond the price of foster'd wealth ; 
A treasure that but few can find, 

When stripp'd of gold, of fame, and health ! 

My mournful muse can ne'er portray 
The pangs of friendship as she mourns 

Those who once cheered her lonely way, 
Who from that dread shore ne'er returns ! 



83 LINES. 

There, side by side, one grave contains 

The relics of two infants dear ; 
In this a brother's dust remains, 

Whilst there a father sleepeth near. 

Affection hovers o'er the dead, 

Where tomb on tomb, where grave on grave, 
Succeeding rise on earth's cold bed, 

As ocean swells wave after wave. 

There soon to dwell my turn must be, 
And on the grave, with fond regret. 

Some one may drop a tear for me. 
In whose kind heart I linger yet. 

Wherever I shall wend my way — 

Where'er, dear friend, my muse shall rest, ^ 
Still thou shalt claim her sweetest lay — 
Still thou shalt dwell within my breast. 

'Tis true, that friendship often dies, 

When earth's bright baulles fade away — 

And love replumes his wings, and flies, 
To shun a sad, a wintry day : 



LINES. 83 

But ever may the friendly tie. 

The chain that binds my heart to thee, 

Grow firmer as hfe hurries by, 
And ending with eternity. 



THE TWO ISLES. 

Beneath the soft Italian skies, 

Ever laved by a summer sea, 
A lone and lovely Island lies, 

Which, France, is thine, and thine shall be^ 

For that fair Isle has given birth 

To him who won thy greatest fame ; 

And while thy flag shall wave on earth, 
'Twill tell of great Napoleon's name : 

Who caused, as by some magic spell, 
Monarchs to tremble on their thrones ; 

Whose armies proud before him fell. 
And nations breath'd their dying groans^ 

And oft along some vine-clad vale, 

The dark-eyed maidens there will stray^ 

Whose voices on the gentle gale, 
Will blend his name with Corsica. 



THE TWO ISLES. 85 

Such was the hero of this Isle, 
The laurel twining round his brow, 

While victory, crown'd by love's sweet smile. 
With glory sealed ambition's vow. 

Another now these glories share— 
An Isle where rolls the ocean wave, 

Whose rocky mount forever there. 
Stands a monument of his grave. 

Napoleon there alone doth sleep, 

Proudly on time's coeval bier ; 
Where sighs the breeze, where willows weep, 

And nature drops her silent tear. 



8& 



TO CAPTAIN JAMES PENNOYER. 

BY REQUEST OF SOME OF HIS FRIENDS, 

Just after the Launch of the Steamer Neptun?. 

Thou, well known navigator of the main, 
Will soon launch forth upon its waves again ;. 
To brave the Ocean God, skill'd in his art, 
Thou nobly knowest how to act thy part. 
And safely steering through the dang'rous tide 
Thy gallant steamer, o'er the waters wide 
Rides proudly onward, past each rock and shore, 
The wat'ry graves of those whom friends deplore. 
Thou canst well trace each danger from the chart,. 
Of every southern coast, to York's gay mart ; 
Then may thy skill and never quailing soul, 
Ensure for thee thy well deserving goal. 
Those valiant sons of that famed genial clime, 
Whose glowing souls survive the wreck of time — 
Whose minds are liberal, whose hearts are warm,. 
Which gives to fleeting life its greatest charm i 



TO CAPT. JAMES PENNOYER. 87 

For mean and selfish wretches they despise, 
And o'er this grovehing throng majestic rise ; 
If strangers chance to tread their smniy land, 
They welcome and extend the friendly hand, 
Nor ask of sordid wealth, how much your store, 
Nor what has brought you to their happy shore : 
Enough for those benignant men to show, 
Those kindly feelings that so sweetly flow» 
Then, noble Pennoyer, with such for friends,. 
Let the cold-hearted seek their selfish ends, 
And proudly to the breeze thy flag unfurl. 
And strife and hatred ta oblivion hurl ; 
For Neptune guards the vassals of the sea, 
And on his vast domains thy home shall be 



88 



THE SLANDERER. 



" Man's inhumanity to man, 
Makes countless thousands mourn.' 



Accursed and cowardly thing of earth ! 

Gorg'd worm of envenom'd hate thou art, 
Whose breath corrodes every new-born hope, 

And unknown, unseen, deep stabs the heart ! 

Thou steal'st abroad in the noon-day glare. 
Where nature is all beautiful and bright. 

Making thy vicious soul still more dark, 
With envy burning at so fair a sight ! 

And in the slumbering hours of rest, 

The sluggish blood through thy veins doth creep, 
Scattering round thy Upas poison 

On innocence, that no more shall sleep ! 

For thou aim'st at heaven*s noblest work. 

To wreck that which thou canst ne'er possess — 

A mind filled with purity and truth. 
And virtue, which leads to happiness ! 



THE SLANDERER. 

See yon maiden, whose pale thin cheek, 
That so late in rosy health did bloom ; 

Whose once bright eyes no more will brighten, 
Nor can joy again that heart relume ! 

For slander has breath'd upon that form, 
And all that's lovely is blighted there ; 

Now fast sinking to an early tomb. 

Whilst thou, mocking, laugh at her despair ^ 

Think ye then, reptile, thy glory's gained, 
From whose deathly grasp none can sever ; 

Yes ! — e'en now fiends for thee are howling, 
Thy hideous name they'll howl forever 1 



LINES, 

Occasioned by a young gentleman, going abroad for his health, 

dying at sea. 

Albert has whisper'd his parting farewell, 
To those whose bosoms 'till then ne'er did swell 
With feelings so sad, as now they must part 
From him, the beloved of many a heart. 
But smiling hope trembling shone through a tear, 
And softly her comfort breath'd to each ear ; 
As light o'er the wave the boat left the shore, 
With him they so lov'd, those waves would restore. 
Now swift on the breeze he's borne from their sight, 
And round them has clos'd the mantle of night ; 
Whilst many a deep-sighed prayer arose, 
To Him on high who every good bestows. 
While time pass'd sadly and slowly away, 
Lingering markM the irksome hours decay ; 
At length the ship is seen with flag half mast, 
And dread suspense is brooding on the past— 



LINES. 91 

While they with silence hear impending fate, 
Unfold her wings, and the mournful tale relate ; 
What grief then madly seized the parents' breast, 
For their Albert slept 'neath their sea's proud crest ; 
And hope with all its flattering tongues expir'd. 
As heroes fall who are with glory fir'd ; 
A neat clad maid, most beautifully fair, 
Sobb'd with grief sincere, while her silky hair 
Floated in the wind, and far strain'd her eye. 
For him who stays where ocean's monsters lie ; 
And softly she calls his name from the deep, 
But no answering sound to her did creep ; 
No, thou art far from friends, from home, and me. 
And cans't not hear thy Isabel call for thee. 
Nor wilt thy manly form, with smiJes so gay, 
To thy maid return with returning day ; 
No ! thou art far from misery and pain. 
And to earth and me ne'er will come again. 
On thy corpse there fell no waim kindred tear, 
Nor mourning friends followed thee to thy bier ; 
But with bright gems ever shining so free. 
Thou art where those gems forever will be. 
And stern disease may cross the trackless main, 
And sweep desolation from plain to plain ; 



92 LINES-. 

And waft pestilent dews from shore to shore> 
They can never reach thee or harm thee more, 
Nor any ill by thee again be felt. 
In vain the winds may howl, and rains may pelt, 
The fork'd lightning's tongue thro' the earth may tear, 
While thunders roll, and storm fiends rend the air — 
'Twill ne'er awake thee from the billowy caves, 
For thy lullaby is the voice of the waves. 
No more will a burning sun parch thy blood. 
Nor feel the cold winds that congeals the flood — ^ 
No more w41t thou feel the soft vernal glow, 
No more wilt thou feel death's quivering bow. 
No more wilt thou feel cold hovering death, 
No more wilt thou feel contagion's sickly breath. 
There no pile rears o'er thy mouldering frame, 
Thou lived God's noblest work, and died the same. 
Oh, Albert ! none have sung thy funeral dirge. 
Save the sea bird's scream, Avith the foaming surge : 
And tho' now thy maiden breathes thee farewell, 
Still forever she's thine, thy own Isabel. 



93 



LINES, 



On Visiting a Church Yard in the Country . 

IN IMITATION OF GRAY. 

The village bell knells the last hour of day ; 

The busy throng from daily labor free, 
Wend home o'er lawn and field their lonely way, 

And leave the anxious cares of mind to me. 

No more the twilight glimmers on the sight, 
And nature calm her silent empire holds ; 

Save by the drowsy hum of insect flight. 
Or distant sound from yonder cottage folds. 

Or from the ancient mouldering tower. 
The dreamy owl awakes to life again ; 

And hooting sallies from its lofty bower, 
Hurtling for prey o'er tenants of the plain. 



94 LINES. 



\ Beneath those spreading elms and willows' shade, 

\ Where the green turf lies in many a heap — 



In these their narrow tombs forever laid, 
The blameless fathers of the village sleep. 



The fresh and dewy breeze of vernal mom — 
The birds' wild melody upon the air — 

The cock's shrill voice, or the loud sounding horn, 
Will ne'er awake the silent sleepers there. 



95 



FRAGMENT. 



On the heaving breast of the ocean brave, 

Our bark gently mov'd o'er the turbid vi^ave ; 

The officers and crew reUeved from toil, 

With thoughts of home their leisure hours beguile : 

Whilst I, musing on that silent scene, 

Moving o'er waters blue, with sky serene. 

The thought of friends, the land we left afar. 

Bid hope arise to be our guiding star. 

Thus still'd the scene where howling tempests swell, 

And storms oft mingle with the raging deep ; 

And while I watch'd the clear and azure sky, 

As the sun rode through the heavens on high, 

Some small clouds arose like a distant sail, 

Which were a prelude to a coming gale. 

Fast from a fanning breeze the winds did swell. 

And broke the reverie of the muse's spell. 



96 



PERFIDY. 



ADDRESSFP TO THOSE WHO CAN BEST UNDERSTAND IT. 



Oh man, thou feeble tenant of an hour, 

Debased by slavery, or corm.:t by power — 

Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust. 

Degraded mass of animated dust : 

Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat — 

Thy smiles hypocrisy — thy v^ords deceit : 

By nature vile, ennobled but by name. 

Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shamo. 

3yroi 



Oft have I been, but there will be no mors— 
Nor ever tread the well known threshold o'er— 
Where subtle man, tricked out in garbled lies 
Clothed in the holy garb of friendship's guise, 
And serpent-like, the serpent's charms employ, 
Coiling its folds and dazzling to destroy. 
Thus duped will ever be the noble mind, 
Who in his fellow man expects to find 
His own, his open, unsuspecting soul- 
Scorning all meaner arts, above control. 



PERFIDY. 97 



Why proffer that with which thou'rt not possess'd — 
Soulless as shameless when brought to the test; — 
You make professions that you do not feel, 
And wound your victim deeper than by steel. , 
Such little minds, mere beings of an hour — 
Scorned are your sneers, and defied your power : 
'Tis your wish, false one, but none ye have, 
For cowardly ye are and sneaking crave : — 
E'en guilty thieving cur with drooping tail, 
Tho' meanest of his race not half so frail. 
As thou, the ignobly begotten thing, 
Whose pois'nous shafts may taint but cannot sting; 
The noble, gen'rous heart, the lofty mind. 
And mighty spirit, you can never find ; 
Their earthly heaven nature's wide expanse, 
Which all the pleasures of this life enhance : 
Such beings friendly live for all, not self. 
And know some other than the god of pelf : 
Whene'er a worldly wretch doth cross their path, 
Their pity is excited, not their wrath : 
The good ever lives, the mean only stays — 
Scorned where'er they go, despis'd their ways — 



98 PERFIDY. 

And sink at last, when life's voyage is o 
Unknown, unwept, on death's eternal shore 
The gen'rous to grateful memory dear, 
Receives from all the tribute of a tear ; 
Tho' gone from earth with life they form a part, 
Enshrin'd on the living page of many a heart : 
As the ungrateful lives, so will they die, 
Without a friend to close the cowering eye. 
Not e'en a stone shall mark their silent spot, 
A hlwok with God, and by the world forgot. 



LINES, 



Occasioned by the Loss of the Steamer Home ; written soon after that 
melancholy wreck. 



Forever on that fearful sea-beat sliore, 

The surge shall peal the deep funereal knell, 

O'er the ocean graves where rest the dead, 
Shrouded and cradled in some rocky cell. 

The sound shall reach o'er the land, where the sir 
Shall mourn his child, the victim of the sea ; 

The son, the sire — the widow'd mother v/eep. 
The infant who had prattled on her knee. 

With bounding hearts, buoyant for home returning, 
The land in view, wreathed in fair autumn's bloom, 

How little did tliey think one fatal hour 

Would thus consign them to a wat'ry tomb. 

How little thought they of the sunny south, 
When the steamer Home left the busy mart, 

That fate severe would thus forever rend 

The friendly chord that bound full many a heart. 



100 LINES. 

And'many a bosom now will heave the sigh, 
And many a cheek will tearful press the pillow, 

Grieving for those loved forms wlio dreamless sleep, 
As o'er them rolls each high and mountain billow 

And many a bright eye now oft will weep — 
Ye lost companions, silent weep for thee, 

Who to your homes can return no more. 
To smile away the gloom that long will be. 

Borne swiftly by the blast to that dread strand, 
With crazy bark in that portentous hour, 

Flying as frighted by the tempest sound. 
Hastening to pay old ocean's dower. 

With upheav'd surge she crashing strikes the sand — 

One short dreadful pause, they crowd her deck- 
Children to mothers, wives to husbands cling, 
Who pale shuddering view the awful wreck. 

Their mournful shrieks loud mingle with the storm, 
As each and all are scattered to the foam. 

Where the ruthless waves soon closes o'er them, 
'Mid cries to God, and piercing thoughts of home. 



101 



LINES, 



Written on receiving a letter from a Young Lady, in which she spoke 
of my Son. 

They say that thou art beautiful, my boy, 

That freshly blooms the rose upon thy cheek , 

Thy bright full eye is glistening with joy. 

Resembling her's, who never heard thee speak ; 

Thy auburn ringlets curling round thy brow, 
And thy gay smiles, show thou art happy now. 

Alas, those hopes that dawned with earliest years, 
That flush the check, and mother's cares beguile 

They're wither'd, blighted, in a mother's tears, 
They perished in a dying mother's smile ; 

Then play on, my sweet boy, play while you may, 
For the joys that now spring soon will decay. 

E'en tho' the sun in splendor is shining, 

And flowers on the breeze are shedding perfuma^, 

And all nature our hearts are entwining, 
Not a cloud to cast shadow of gloom ; 

But soou they'll arise o'er each lovely fonn,^ 

And nought '11 be there save the wrecks of the storm. 



102 

Thus is it with hfe, we set out at morn, 

Hope steers, while pleasure wafts us from the shore ^ 
Ere noon our course is lost, our sails are torn, 

And a dark imknown sea lies wide before. 
Then, my boy, as earth's joys but falsely shine, 
May heaven's fair scenes immortal be thine. 



103 



LINES. 

The following lines were suggested by being present at a Military 
Funeral, the subject of which was an only Son, and the following 
is supposed to be the Father's Soliloquy. 

And tliou art gone to that deep sleep, 

Where o'er thy form the worms shall creep ; 

And thou'lt return, return no more, 
To cheer me on life's troubled shore. 

How soon the tyrant death can sever 
Those tender ties, dear to us ever; 

For the last of my race, even now 
Fled is thy soul, cold is thy brow. 

Thy brethren in arms are arrayed, 

To perform the solemn parade, 
That bears thee to that lonely cell, 

Where the lovely and lov'd must dwell, 

With muffled drum, and measured tread, 
They move on slowly with the dead ; 

To lay thee where thy kindred rest, 
Freedom's flag drooping on thy breast. 



104 

The portals of the tomb now close 
On my child, who there will repose, 

'Till the trumpet wakes from their graves 
The sleepers of earth and the waves ! 



105 



TO MISS ELLEN TREE. 

Fair vot'ry of Thalia's fav'rite bard, 

By nature and by art sublimely taught — 

With magic skill to breathe the poet's soul, 
And in wrapt musings so embody thought. 

How oft hast thou in the great tragic scene, 
With every passion strong and deeply wrought, 

Thrill'd with thy pathos every feehng heart, 

While glis'ning eyes bedewed with tears are fraught. 

Or in some tender or some queenly part. 
Hast thou inspir'd the aged and the young. 

Enrapturing with thy eloquence and powers, 

Wiiile mimic woes flowed sweetly from thy tongue. 

Maiden, farewell, may every bhss be thine. 
And the world's loud plaudits still wait on thee, 

Till time enrolls thee on the page of fame, 
The good and great— the lovely Ellen Tree. 



106 



A MEDLEY» 
Addressed to the eminent Bards of New York. 

Rhymes I've pen'd, and ended now each story, 
Perhaps without either wit or glory ; 
Suppose then, I write something sarcastic, 
By way of making my work more plastic : 
And first and best 'midst the immortal few, 
George P. Morris, I'll commence with you ; — 
Whose sounding name in every land is sung — 
Whose songs are warbled forth by every tongue ; 
And a wood cutter, in what land he'll be, 
Will always think of "woodman, spare that tree." 
Now, kind sir, I'll give a song of my own — 
'Twould be a shame to have it die unknown : 
Know ye the time our rights were debated, 
And fierce war with England agitated, 
'Bout the bound'ry — the theme I'll not prolong, 
But give at once the subject in a song : 

Britons, leave that land. 
Where grows the tall pine trees, 



A MEDLEY. 107 

There let them proudly stand — 

Bowing before the breeze ; 
Our fathers own'd that spot, 

That is now claimed by thee — 
But you shall have it not, 

Whilst their sons are free ! 

Those trees that long have spread 

Their branches to the storm/ 
Shelt'ring the lonely bed 

Of some mouldering form ; 
And you would take the ground, 

'^rhat holds our grandsire's dust — 
E'en while their voices sound, 

Guard well the sacred trust ! 

In hours of sportive joy. 

Beneath those trees we've strayed, 
And you would now destroy — 

Those hopes that childhood made ; 
And from yon stream so clear. 

The cooling draught did drink — 
To home and country dear. 

From which we ne'er will shrink 1 



108 A MEDLEY. 

And ourheart!^ yet will cling, 

To those old trees of Maine, 
As each returning Springs — 

Shall see them bud again ; 
And there long may they stand, 

To mark their native spot — 
Then, Britons, leave our land. 

For you shall touch them not ! 

Next upon the page is Epes Sargent, 

A poet by nature and by birth a gent, 

Who thinks the smoother path the better way. 

And be to-morrow what he is to-day ; 

A man of feeling with a lofty mind. 

By honor guided, and by manners kind. 

Nat. P. Willis comes next, with great and small, 

And now proudly treads some lord's courtly hall ; 

His mind more soaring, dar'd the treach'rous wave. 

And sought the climes of art, the boon they gave — 

And from among England's fairest daughters. 

Won a lovely bride across the waters. 

He now at Almacks is Columbia's pride. 

Some blushing countess chatting by his side — 

Asking many questions about " Tortesa," 

Whilst he hopes the crowd does not squeeze her ; 



A MEDLEY. 109 

And when climbing o'er some cumbering ridge, 
I'll think of him who wrote " beneath the bridge ;" 
Or when some maiden music sweet shall play, 
My "Inldings" will most certain bid me stay. 
Benjamin in the field nobly acts his part, 
With judgment strong, and ever gen'rous heart ; 
And when required, can wield a mighty pen, 
To lash little things, or praise worthy men. 
Fitzgreen Halleck, the amiable and good — 
His name will ever stand as it has stood ; 
Bryant, the other fav'rite of the muse — 
Nature his priestess, nor her gifts refuse ; 
While full many a bantling I could name, 
But they are not yet ripe enough for fame. 
Trusting that honor'd friends who grace this scene. 
Will not think I wrote in jest, or with spleen — 
Nor take offence ; nor close the friendly door, 
For if I've offended, I'll offend no more. 



no 



FAREWELL TO MY MUSE. 

Farewell awhile,' ye witching crew, farewell, 

Who oft have lured me from the haunts of gain, 

To twine around my heart the mad'ning spell 
That fired the soul while ye inspired the strain. 

Farewell, ye dearly loved, perchance forever, 
I to thy sweet shrine may no more repair ; 

But should thy beaming smile recall me ever, 
Thou'lt find in me a willing loit'rer there. 

Yes, ye inspired of the pierian shade. 

Mistress of verse, I own your magic power ; 

And, though the fleeting joys of life shall fade, 
I yet may haste to thy parnassian bower. 

Where kindred spirits, glowing with thy fire. 

Entranced in thought, are hovering round thy fane, 

Grasping with master hanxi thy tuneful lyre, 
And echoing angels peal the noble strain. 



Ill 



1 

I 



NOTES. 

Note 1. — It would be absurdity in the extreme to assert that there 
are no errors in this work. It is next to an impossibility to have the 
first edition of any work issue from the press complete ; although the 
strictest attention be paid to the correction of the proofs — as was in 
this work — still there are errors. However faultless or merito- 
rious a work may be, if the critic does not find fault, he is no critic ; 
and they are such an amiable set of fellows, that to show their kind at- 
tentions and friendly feelings, they point out the defects without 
referring to the more finished parts. 

The third and fourth line of the first Poem ought to have been print- 
ed thus : — 

Where every polished art refulgent reigns, 
Their beauties breathing o'er thy vast domains. 

There are likewise typographical errors in this Poem — such as 
spelling Britannia with two T's, vailed for veiled, &c. &c. — which the 
general reader will readily excuse, and which can only be corrected 
in a second edition. 

Note 2. — The word easy of last line, first stanza, page fifteen, ought 
to have read easily. 

Note 3.— The poem on Washington, a part of which was written 
many years since, was added to, and adapted for the occasion which 



112 



it alludes to, that of his Centennial birth-day — the word then, in the 
seventh line of this poem from end, ought to read Ihou. 

Note 4. — The Evening Star, mentioned on page 43, is intended for 
the N. Y. Evening Star, for which paper this piece was written. 

Note 5. — " We meet no more" — page 52, the author does not 
vouch for its being original — the MS. was found among his papers. 

Note 6. — Athens, alluded to in the poem entitled Island Home, is 
in reference to Boston. 

Note 7. — The word glossy, first line, page 31, ought to read 
glassy. 

NoteS. — Whatever other minor errors there may be, such as mis- 
spelled words — wrong punctaation — or false rhythm, will, the author 
trusts, be considered by the indulgent reader, the evils which every au- 
thor is liable to in his first edition. 



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